Page 18 of His Cruel Exception

“As of Friday night, yes.”

His lips part, but nothing comes out at first. Then, “Did you buy the club just so I couldn’t work there?”

“Wouldn’t you rather tutor me?”

“But you don’t need tutoring!” His chair scrapes against the floor as he pushes himself to his feet, and the sudden movement sends his napkin sliding from his lap. “If this is some sort of game, I want n-no part in it.”

His breathing becomes quicker, each inhale stopping too high in his chest before the previous one has fully left him, and when he tries to step away from the table, his balance falters and he has to catch himself with one hand against the polished wood. His fingers spread across the surface, gripping hard while the other hand presses against his stomach.

His face has lost some of its color as he starts muttering something beneath his breath, repeating words to himself as his shoulders rise and fall with increasingly shallow breaths.

I catch only mom, rent, and Logan.

I reach for his hand and draw him toward me, but Alexander resists, pulling against my grip while his breathing continues to unravel.

“Logan,” he says again, barely getting the name out between breaths.

I stand and move behind him before he can stumble, wrapping both arms firmly around his body and pulling his back against my chest. He stiffens at first, his hands pushing weakly at my forearms, but I hold him there while the panic works its way through him until his breathing begins to slow.

His head lowers. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice rough, and then he sniffs.

The sound makes something inside me harden. There should be no tears in those pale eyes unless he’s stuffed full of my cock. Once I am certain his legs will hold him again, I guide him back into his chair.

Alexander wipes beneath his eyes with the back of one hand, avoiding my gaze as I sit beside him again.

“This isn’t a game,” I tell him, waiting until he finally looks at me. “I will pay you two thousand dollars for every session.”

“But why?”

I run my thumb across his lower lip and his breath catches.

“You don’t know it yet, but you’re mine, little stripper.” I keep my eyes on his as my thumb leaves his mouth. “If a man touches you, I’ll break his fingers, and if anyone stares at you for longer than I’m willing to tolerate, I'll gouge out their eyes with my bare hand.”

Alexander’s eyes widen, and color spreads from his cheeks down the side of his neck until even the tips of his ears are red.

I take his chin between my fingers and tilt his face higher. “And one more thing. The next time you have a panic attack, you call for me. Not Logan or anyone else. Me. Do you understand?”

He manages a small nod despite my hold on his chin. “Okay.”

“Good. Now eat.”

Chapter

Nine

ALEX

My life has taken a turn, although I genuinely cannot tell if it’s for good or worse.

I am still trying to process the fact that Antonio Scalera looked me directly in the eyes and informed me that I am his, like that is a normal thing to say.

I don’t even understand what he means by it, and every reasonable part of me knows I should be more concerned about the possessive implication behind the words, but I liked hearing it.

I push a piece of potato around with my fork while I consider the possibility that there is something wrong with me, because being told that someone will gouge out another man’s eyes for looking at me should not produce warmth anywhere inside my body.

And yet here we are.

Am I broken?